


Hellfire

by kuhekabir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhekabir/pseuds/kuhekabir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hellfire is fire that burns brighter than any flame known to man and yet, it won’t hut Sam at all. It’s something he picked up, something which is now a part of him and he isn’t so sure he wants to part with it. It soothes his soul…drowns out the noises around him. It’s also the reason he’s got a second chance at making things right, so just because it’s called hellfire, doesn’t make it evil, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for SPN in a very long time. You can also find this story over at LJ [HERE](http://kuhekabir-fics.livejournal.com/116942.html)
> 
> I've tried to edit it as best as I can but spelling isn't a talent of mine. I hope you can enjoy the story!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I chose not to use the warning CHARACTER DEATH because the main character death only lasts for like 3 seconds. But please be warned, for like 3 reading, there is a MAIN CHARACTER DEATH. It doesn't last, trust me. You might even blink and miss it!

“Sam! Run!” Dean shouted, hurling himself into the fight like he had nothing to live for.

Sam, of course, ignored his older brother because wasn’t this what younger brothers did? Especially when older brothers were full of shit and clearly delusional.

They still had no clue what the Leviathans were up to or what major Dick Roman was actually planning but by a stroke of luck, they had gotten intel that the asshole was doing some kind of ritual in an nondescript warehouse in the middle of nowhere and there hadn’t even been a debate or the batting of any eyelashes, they both had looked at each other, packed their bags and hightailed it over here.

What two guys were supposed to do against a horde of Leviathans up to no good, Sam didn’t know but by mutual agreement, they had decided to try. At least they knew how to hurt them, thanks to Bobby and Sheriff Mills but still, their chances of getting out of this weren’t good.

But had this ever stopped them? Hell no!

Sam’s hallucinations were still going strong but there was a shift in them. Kind of like something was coming, something huge was brewing inside him and it was only waiting for the right outlet.

He didn’t much like feeling like this, especially with how things were between him and his brother. Their once so strong bond was hanging by the threads and while Sam shared a huge junk of blame for this, Dean wasn’t totally blameless in it either.

If Sam had to pinpoint a moment in time where their lives, their family, had found the downward slope and stepped on it, then he would have to say it had been when he had died and Dean had made the unfortunate deal.

Sam often wondered if things wouldn’t have turned out for the better if Dean had just let things be.

Then again, maybe not. Hadn’t their father supposed to be the righteous man? Maybe with Sam gone, Dad would’ve broken the first seal and then what?

Sam didn’t think his presence had made much of a difference but he was pretty sure without Dean to focus on him, the balance would’ve tipped a lot sooner. And besides, he frowned, if Dad had broken the first seal and Sam had been dead, who would’ve been Luci’s true vessel?

He almost snickered, side stepping someone trying to bear and axe down on his head. Every time he called the devil by his new nick name, there was still roar inside him, kind of like indignation and Sam enjoyed it very much.

He was done fighting being crazy. Maybe accepting he was short a few cups in a row was going to be the way forward.

Roman was chanting something not too far away, holding a glowy object.

He was momentarily distracted, focused on the strings of lights snaking towards him and this was when Dean falter.

Sam turned, watching his brother go down, staring wide eyed as two knives were buried deep inside his gut and his life blood started spilling out.

“Dean!” he screamed, ducking yet again passed another one trying to do him in, flinging himself towards his brother. He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, hauling him upwards.

His lips were spluttering blood and the life in his eyes was slowly draining away.

“We had a good run, Sam,” Dean managed to say while spitting out more blood. “Go down fighting. It’s all we can do at this stage.”

Mere moments had passed and then Sam was holding his brother’s still from, his green eyes staring up at him, no longer seeing anything.

“Dean,” he whispered, as more shards of sanity broke inside him. “Dean…”

In many ways, Dean had driven him insane since they were little but on the other hand, his brother had always been the glue keeping in together, making him push forward when otherwise he would’ve just cowered in a corner.

He let go of his brother, jumping onto his feet. He had no chance of killing the creatures around him but by all that was holy, he could sour the ritual Roman was doing.

The time for words was over. He grabbed a discarded axe from the ground, heaving his way through the bodies until a dam broke inside him.

He screamed, eyes ablaze, leaving a trail of fire behind, scorching everything and everyone who dared to stand in his way and when he pushed through the barrier, the air around his sizzled.

He was gone, the fire in and around him, consuming him, burning away any sort of consciousness he might’ve had, reducing him to one goal, and one goal alone.

He grabbed Roman’s scrawny neck and with a straggled cough, the man went limp as fire sprung from Sam’s fingertips, from his very soul, latching onto his enemy and turning him into nothing but a pile of ash.

When he was done, Sam was left standing there, holding the glowing thing in his hand, not caring how it was starting to vibrate, pulsating like a supernova until…well, until it did go nova, dousing everything in bright, white light.

And then, Sam knew nothing more.

##

The sheets were soft on his skin and with a little snuffle, he turned, burying his face into the cosy pillow.

The sun though had other plans, sending its annoying tendrils of light into the room, ensuring Sam couldn’t possibly drift off once more.

With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes when suddenly everything started pouring back in.

“Dean…” he whispered, voice horse. He sat up in the bed, staring ahead, not seeing the room he was in at first.

Tears started pooling at his eyes and when one lone drop feel, he quickly wiped it away.

He finally managed to focus on the room, eyes turning wide.

“What the hell…?” he mumbled, fumbling with the covers to get up.

He noticed he was clutching something in his hand so he stopped, opening his palm. The glowy thing from last night was stuck to his palm, nestling there as it if belong. Sam carefully raised a hand, poking at it as gingerly as he could and when he did, an inscription flared up.

Second Chance

It was written in Enochian but thanks to Castiel and all he had given them, Sam was now quiet fluent in the old language. And there was no doubt on his mind what the words said.

He whispered, repeating them out loud even though he knew he shouldn’t be repeating any kind of spell but he couldn’t help himself.

The moment he had said the words, the amulet crumbled to dust and when he shook his hand, the fine particles vanished into the air, carried away by the soft currents all around him.

It couldn’t be, right?

He looked around, still not trusting his eyes. Then he slowly got up. He needed a shower, wash the grime and blood away and then he needed a bottle or twenty to bury the memory of his brother…wait…he stopped, looking at his hands, staring at his clothes.

He was clean. Not a smack of blood…nothing on him. He walked out of the room, down way too familiar corridor until he reached the bathroom.

Once inside he found the mirror, staring at his reflection.

His face was looking back at him but it wasn’t the face he had worn yesterday. He looked younger, innocent…untouched by the horrors he had seen.

He blinked, raising his hands to rub at his eyes before opening them again and yet, the image hadn’t change.

He traced the fine lines on his face, remembering the last time he had seen himself this untouched, this young. It was before everything had gone to hell, before he had been killed and before Dean had opened a can of worms by making a deal and throwing his life away.

Dean…

He rushed out the room, barging into the other door, grabbing the all too familiar duffle bag. He turned it upside down, grabbing a random piece of clothing and then like a creeper, he held it up, sniffing it.

Dean…

He dropped the shirt, running out of the room again and into the master bedroom. He pushed the door open, staring.

There was a commotion downstairs and like a fresh breath of wind, Sam flew out of the room, down the stairs, crashing into the living room where he stopped, wide eyed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Sammy?” Dean asked.

Sam stared.

Dean…younger too but more importantly, the famous spark, the joy de vivre Dean had always possessed before everything had taken a nose dive, was back.

The green eyes shone with mirth and despite having dark circles around his eyes and a faint stubble on his face, his brother was alive. More than just alive; he actually radiated happiness. He wasn’t going through the motions…this was Dean how he had been…how he should’ve been before Sam and his stupidity hadn’t only condemned himself to a road of darkness but his brother too.

“No…” he mumbled, stumbling backwards. He’d seen a lot of crazy in his life but this was too much.

He shook his head as more tears started to fall. He grabbed his head and as his back connected with a wall, he slid down, pulling his knees up and trying to make himself as small as humanly possibly while shaking his head.

“Sammy!” Dean was shouting now and oh good…how nice was it to hear Dean call him by the nickname he had dreaded for so long and had missed liked a missing limb when Dean had stopped using it.

Gentle hands were on him but Sam couldn’t bear it. He tried to push Dean away, whimpering as if he was in pain and maybe he was…he couldn’t tell.

Everything was too much, too overpowering because he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve a second chance and yet…maybe he’d done to heaven?

But surely he wouldn’t be let into heaven, not after what he had done…the taint of being Lucifer’s vessel alone would keep him out of the gates and even if he did go through, some angel still holding a grudge over Raphael and who knew what else, surely would see to it that his sting in heave would resemble more a place in hell than anything else.

He was pretty sure angels had written the book on being vindictive.

“What’s going on here?” Bobby’s gruff voice had Sam’s head snapping up and then, not even he knew why, he started banging his head against the wall because enough was enough.

“Oh shit,” Dean mumbled trying to keep him steady while Bobby vanished out of sight again. Sam thought he might’ve imagined him at all if seconds later he didn’t, reappear, carrying a syringe.

He barely twitched when the needle buried itself into his neck and once the injection took over, he didn’t fight the calming influence at all.

Maybe this once the darkness would be final. Maybe he could finally rest in peace.

##

Voice swirled all around him when he started to come too. So much for his theory of never waking up again.

His demon blood addiction plus his stint as Lucifer’s condom had given him a greater tolerance towards drugs and apparently being in his younger body, hadn’t changed his fundamental make up.

Maybe it hadn’t been so much a physical addiction, a physical change as a change of soul?

Either way, he might be slowly waking up but he wasn’t ready to face the world yet so he stayed where he was, silent on the sofa in Bobby’s living room.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” Dean asked, voice carrying an unknown emotion.

“Pardon me for caring,” John Winchester shot back. “But Azazel is in the area and considering all the special children that have gone missing, I thought I’d check in on Sam…”

Dean huffed, loud and clear, even for Sam to hear with closed eyes.

“What happened?” John asked.

“He had a vision,” Dean answered. “Must’ve been a bitch too considering he was acting more crazy than usual. He even tried to bash his head in.”

“Oh…”

“Bobby had to sedate him…”

“Good, good…” John grumbled and there was some shuffling as if the men were walking further away from him but they still weren’t out of earshot. “He won’t hear us then…Dean…” John’s voice implored. “You have to keep your promise, right? If something happens to me, if things go sour, you need to make sure you brother doesn’t turn…”

“I won’t kill him,” Dean replied with heat. “He’s my brother…”

“Dean…”

“You honestly can’t ask me again to kill my younger brother! I won’t do it!”

“What?”

The shit was about to hit the fan and if Sam could, he would sit up, grab a box of popcorn and enjoy the show. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed something this much.

“You asked Dean to kill Sam in case he couldn’t safe him? What kind of father are you?” There was a sound which sounded suspiciously like a gun being loaded. “I told you the last time, Winchester,” Bobby growled. “If you come back here, I’ll shoot you in the ass. Considering what I’ve just hear, I might just shoo you in the head instead!”

“Let’s take this elsewhere…” Dean mumbled and the heated voices left the room.

Sam slowly got up, extracting himself from the sofa, sneaking outside. He stopped, looking in through the window, eyes only trained on Dean.

Maybe this wasn’t so much his second chance, he mused, maybe it was Dean’s. Sam didn’t deserve a second look at life but Dean had suffered so much because of him, because of their father, he surely deserved to be happy.

But in order for that to come to pass, Sam needed to make sure Azazel was out of the picture.

Hm…what if killing the demon put everything into motion again? He needed a second opinion, someone with insight…

An idea was born and Sam hurried into the junkyard until he was out of sight and out of earshot.

This was a long shot but what did he have to loose?

He looked skyward, closing his eyes. “Castiel, angel of Thursday. I need to speak to you. Hear my prayer. We got unfinished business. Castiel?”

When this didn’t work, he took a leaf out of Dean’s book. “Castiel,” He started again. “Get your feathery ass down here!”

There was a sudden flutter of wings and when Sam opened his eyes, Castiel was standing before him, blue eyes ablaze and looking just as rumpled as always.

Sam smiled, joy overtaking his senses and maybe a lapse of sanity was the only explanation for his next actions. He crossed the distance, pulling the angel into a tight hug.

The man…angel stood there, confusion radiating off him but he didn’t smite or do anything else drastic.

“Thank you for coming,” Sam said, pulling away.

Castiel crooked his head. “You prayed for me. You sounded like you knew me. You can’t know me and yet…you do. I was…” here the angel paused, apparently unsure if he should admit to it but then he did. “I was curious.”

“I can’t explain what’s going on,” Sam hurried to say before Castiel could decide he had seen enough, taking off again. “Can you read my mind…” he waved his hands. “Can you do that? Can you looking into my mind and see everything that happened to me?”

Castiel still looked puzzled and maybe it was Sam’s lucky day because the angel stepped closer, putting both hands onto his head and then Sam closed his eyes. The probing was gently, like a touch of wings and then everything played out in front of his eyes again, like a movie on fast forward.

He stumbled backwards when Castiel let go, nearly falling on his ass and when he steadied himself, the angel was opening staring at him as if he had grown two heads.

“I…” Castiel started before he took a few steps backwards, eyes falling onto the hood of a car before he walked over to it, slumping onto it.

“I need to sit,” he said after the fact. Sam huffed, sitting down beside him.

“I’m sorry…” Sam apologized, not sure for what but learning what had happened must’ve come as a big shock to the angel.

“It isn’t everyday I learn I am going to…or I did, betray my family, falling and then…”

“Castiel,” Sam interrupted him. “Do you honestly thing wiping out all humans so creation can start again is your Father’s will?”

Castiel stayed silent until he shook his head. “I have not received any orders and if I had, I might be following them but…now…thinking about it…I wouldn’t…no,” Castiel stuttered. “I never doubted…but…”

“This is a lot to take in,” Sam said soothingly. At least he tried because how was he supposed to help an angel with a crisis of faith and doubt?

“We can stop this though,” Sam said with conviction. “We know how things are meant to play out and while my presence here surely has changed things, I am sure some things still need to happen in order for everything to go pear shaped and if we do this together, we might be able to avert the catastrophe…”

“Yes,” Castiel answered hesitantly. “Knowing the stepping stones ahead, we might be able to avoid them. What I have seen, events are shaping up again like they had before, with gifted children going missing and Azazel playing his selection game…”

“I don’t recall my father and Dean ever having the conversation they had earlier,” Sam suddenly said, scrunching up his nose. “Hell,” he slowly continued. “I can’t recall us ever staying over like this at Bobby’s place. Not since we were children anyway…so maybe something changed already…before I showed up here?”

“Maybe,” Castiel admitted. “The talisman you grabbed was a very powerful one. There are only two events in recorded history where time was changed and second chances were granted…and this amulet has been around since the first people settled on this plane…”

“So it’s old then…”

Castiel gave him an incredulous look because Sam had stated the obvious – yet again.

“Why is it so selective?” Sam asked.

Castiel shrugged. “No one knows how it came to be. Some lore says, it was shaped out of a tear from our father, as he cried over the loss of Eden and some say, it is a left over from creation itself, shaped into an amulet because it willed itself into existence with a left over spark. No one knows for sure but what is certain is that it has only been active twice, well,” he amended, blue eyes focusing on Sam. “Three times now and it hasn’t been seen or heard from in many, many centuries.”

“But Roman, the head Leviathan, was making it glow…does this mean, the amulet was about to grant him a second chance?”

“It didn’t, did it…?” Castiel countered. “There are spells to activate it. There are spells for nearly everything but in the end, the amulet has its own will. No one can make it bend unless it wants to. Roman might have been able to activate it but unless the amulet judged him worthy, it wouldn’t have done anything.”

“I grabbed it by accident…” Sam continued, eyes glazing over as he thought back. “And the world nearly fell away almost instantly…does this mean, it wanted to help me? But not Roman?”

“You killed him,” Castiel said as casually as only an angel could. “It should’ve deactivated since the spell caster was gone and yet, it latched onto you, granting you a second chance…”

“But I’m not worthy,” Sam mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’ve made so many wrong choices and I keep making them despite the best of intentions…”

“This may be so,” Castiel interrupted. “But the amulet isn’t bound by any morals or so called human standards. No one knows why it will grant these things but apparently it saw something in you and off it went.”

“But it turned to dust…”

“Only to reshape elsewhere, resting there until someone else will find it again. The moment you woke and spoke the words, its work was done and thus it disintegrated, assembling elsewhere…waiting…”

“Sounds kind of creepy,” Sam observed.

Castiel didn’t shrug, he made no movement but Sam was convinced he was shrugging internally.

“Uhm…Cas?” He automatically shortened the angel’s name into the more familiar address, ignoring the slight flicker of outrage flickering across the angel’s face. “Jimmy didn’t fare so well the last time around. Actually, his whole family got kind of screwed up and as much as I want you around, could you maybe talk things over a bit more clearly with the guy?”

Castiel looked confused. “I don’t understand,” he slowly said. “This vessel was not conscious when I…”

“You napped him while he was asleep?” Sam’s voice rose because hell, no! What about consent?

“No,” Castiel rose, eyes afire. “I am an angel. We require consent when it can be given…” he amended.

“Why do I smell a but?”

“Because this vessel was not conscious. There were numerous tubes and strange beeping noises from human medical equipment but despite his body being alive, his soul was already departed. I took his vessel, planting the information that he passed away in his sleep and his family and everyone will believe, he has been cremated. They will mourn and be allowed to move on and I will be able to walk this Earth and help you.”

“But you didn’t know what I was going to ask!”

“And yet, I couldn’t just take the vessel and not leave an explanation because it is my understanding that normally people who are comatose and being kept alive against their body’s wish aren’t in the habit of getting up and walking around…” Castiel dryly reply.

“This isn’t how it went down the last time…Jimmy was alive when you showed up and it was years later…maybe you’re wrong, maybe he would’ve woken up?”

“He could not,” Castiel said sternly, getting off the hood of the car, taking a few steps away so he could turn around again to look at Sam. “His soul is already in heaving, enjoying the pleasures of life well lived. He would not have woken up. If he had, it would not have been him.”

“Then, things are already moving along a different path,” Sam mused, not sure if this was a good sign or not.

“I agree,” Castiel concluded. “And yet, the keystones still need to be met. I will look into locating the demon Azazel for you.”

“Do you think you can smite him?”

“I might,” Castiel reluctantly said. “However, from what you showed me, he is a very powerful demon and I haven’t smited anyone in many, many centuries. I will need some practice…”

Castiel flexed his fingers and Sam almost felt sorry for the poor demons Castiel was going to practice on.

“In the mean time,” Castiel walked towards him, placing a hand onto Sam’s shoulder, giving him no warning at all before searing, hot pain shot through him.

As quickly as it had come, it fell away, leaving Sam gasping. “What did you do? Do you make me invisible again for the angels?”

“I did not,” Castiel denied. “If I was to block your presence and someone was to come looking, it would raise all sorts of odd questions which we aren’t ready to answer yet. I have, however, place a tattoo on your body which will ensure you cannot be possessed or enchanted by anything or anyone. It also means, Azazel cannot call you to him, by any means, unless you are willing to go. It will make him angry but I think, neither one of us will be too bothered with screwing up the demon’s plans, right?”

Sam gaped. It had taken Dean quite some time get Castiel to show his more cheeky side, his dry wit and sarcasm and here he was, on Earth for only a few minutes and he was already snarking away with the best of them. Go Sam?

“Thank you,” Sam quickly said, jumping off the hood as well, stretching his shoulders and his neck.

“You are welcome,” Castiel nodded. “I will leave you now. If you have need for me, pray and I will come.”

“Don’t confront Azazel on your own,” Sam said, grabbing Castiel by his arm. “We need to be careful and he is powerful. Things have changed and until I know more of what is going on, we can’t run into this with half our eyes closed.”

“Very well, Sam,” Castiel agreed, nodding his head. “I will look for him and avoid confrontation unless it cannot be helped. I would also recommend, you refrain from praying unless you want to talk to me. My brothers might be already listening although I have not seen any indication of it so far.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Seconds later, Castiel was gone again, only the flapping sound of his wings echoing through the otherwise empty junkyard.

Sam rubbed his jaw. What a day this had been…

##

“Where the hell did you get to?”

Dean was right there, leaning against the wall, looking ready to blow a gasket. It was an adorable look…wait…what?

Sam frowned. He shook his head as if this would magically clear the strange thought from his mind but like glue, it was now stuck somewhere on the inside, refusing to budge.

_Very Dean-like_ , he thought.

“Went for a walk?” he offered, unsure what else to say. He hunched his shoulders, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. It wasn’t as if he had ever been big but his new/old body felt odd to him. He was used to having a bit more body mass, more muscular shoulders than he had now. Sure, he had never been a slouch, but now he was back to lean muscles.

“Sammy…”

Sam opened his mouth to complain about the name but then he closed it. He honestly didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, he had missed Dean calling him by it.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh?”

“You always complain when I call you Sammy.”

“Maybe I actually like it?”

“Do you have a fever?”

Dean was now right there, in his space, forcing a hand onto his forehead. He swatted it away, taking a step around his brother.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, moving back into the house, coming face to face with his father.

He stopped in his tracks. Of course, he had known John was there. He’d heard the conversation, the hushed voices and while he wasn’t ready yet to figure out why the supposed sedative hadn’t worked on him like it should have, a part of him hadn’t expected to ever come face to face with his father again.

A mix of emotions ran through him; joy at seeing him alive because despite their constant fights, he was still his father and Sam loved him. Anger because his father was once again pushing at Dean, trying to tear him apart and sadness because instead of trying to talk to him, trying to fix things, he wanted Sam dead.

What kind of man actively considered having his older son kill his youngest just to avoid the apocalypse? Oh wait, maybe John did have a point because if Sam had stayed dead, the world might’ve been better off but while maybe on a logical lever, far removed from any emotion, he could understand the reasoning, he would never be able to understand how a _father_ could ask for something like this.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” John said in his usual gruff tone of voice.

“Em…likewise…” Sam stuttered.

“What are you still doing here?” Bobby appeared, wearing an apron. Sam stared. Then he raised a hand, rubbing at his eyes but no, the image never changed.

“What are you wearing?”

“I’m making pie,” Bobby announced. “Old recipe since I figured we could use some cheering up and nothing makes your brother happier than pie.”

Sam blinked, at a loss for words.

“If you want me to leave, Bobby,” John announced. “Then you really have to shoot me.” Sam watched as John folded his hands across his chest, sprouting the same mutinous look Dean had worn only a few moments ago.

Sam might look more like his father, be more similar in temperament to him than to their mother but when it came to mannerisms and the like, Dean sure as hell took after their father. Maybe because Dean had always idolised him even when John hadn’t deserved it?

Bobby waved a syrupy spoon at John in what was supposed to be a threatening manner and Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud.

When Bobby retreated, both John and Dean rounded in on him. Sam felt like a caged animal for a few seconds before he reminded himself he wasn’t as young as he appeared and after all the shit he had been through, he was also a far cry away from innocent. There was a part of him though who wished he could recall what sleeping through the night, waking up happy and content actually felt like.

“What did you see?”

“Where?” Sam looked around, not getting the reference.

“Your vision?” Dean prompted.

Sam blinked. Oh, his little breakdown also known as a fake vision. Damm…what should he say?

“And old friend of mine…” he started slowly, his mind racing, giving himself some time to come up with something. “It wasn’t very clear,” he hedged. “Mostly just images, blood and just terror…” he hoped if he made it sound extremely dreadful they would go with it. 

“And old friend?” John asked. “Do we know him?”

“No,” Sam quickly answered. “From Stanford?”

“What could an old friend of yours have to do with the demon?” Dean carefully asked.

Sam shrugged. He was out of ideas now. “I don’t know,” he honestly said. “Not all the visions I get actually ever make sense, you know that.”

“But they always mean something…” John added.

Sam was at a loss for words so he settled for shrugging again. “I think, I should see if Bobby wants some help with the pie,” he slowly inched away from the two men and thankfully they let him go.

Maybe making some pie, spending an afternoon doing nothing but being happy at having received a second chance would actually help him with believing what he was seeing.

##

“Where on Earth are we?” Sam looked around, seeing nothing identifiable anywhere.

He had been unable to sleep and after staring at Dean for hours with envy pooling inside his stomach, he had finally given up and slowly gone downstairs to feel sorry for himself on the sofa.

Then Castiel had popped him and transported them to this place without any comments at all.

“I’ve got a lead on one of Azazael’s demons,” Castiel replied.

“Really?” Sam rubbed his hands together, salivating at the thought of getting the dirty. He missed a good brawl and yes, his rather violent tendencies might be fuelled by his anger, by his memories of hell and his rage at the world but hey, in what book was taking it out on a demon a bad thing?

“Let’s go then…” Sam took a step forward but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“I can’t go in,” he said.

“What?”

“If word gets out that an angel is assisting you, my brothers might learn of my involvement. We can’t fix this if we are fighting on both fronts…”

Sam chewed on his lower lip. Castiel was right. As far as the world was concerned, angels didn’t exist and while demons of course knew better, no angel had walked the earth officially for a very long time. If Castiel showed his feathers now, they would not only loose their advantage, they might also steer up more shit than they could handle.

“But…” Sam nearly whimpered, clenching his fists. “If I go in then, they will recognize me and how am I supposed to explain getting here so quickly? And I don’t have my powers… I can’t yank the demon out of the human host…”

“And I hope you have no intention,” Castiel’s voice had an edge to it which sent shivers up and down Sam’s spine. And not the good kind. “Of picking up that unfortunate habit because drinking demon blood is the road to hell. Nothing good can come out of exposing yourself to this.”

“I know,” Sam quickly said and mostly he believed it but he still carved it. “But the point I’m trying to make is that what good is it then if we know there are answers in there and we can’t go in and get them?”

“I see your point.”

Sam raised an eye brow. Really? He had to actually point out the obvious?

“Wait…” and idea, a really, really bad idea dawned on Sam but it was the only thing he got. “I faked a vision.”

It was now Castiel’s turn to raise an eye brow and man, he had never looked more Spock-like than in this very moment.

“I was in shock,” Sam defended himself. “Waking up, finding myself in the past with Bobby still alive and Dean whole…I freaked, alright?”

No answer.

“So I said I saw an old friend of mine and that there was blood and terror…it was very vague but what if you’re this old friend?”

Now Castiel actually managed to look slightly alarmed.

“You could come with me…you could say you overheard something nasty, heard my name and this…” Sam pointed at the nearby bar. “This was where you eavesdropped.”

“Sam…”

“The plan has holes in it, I know,” Sam ploughed on, ignoring Castiel’s attempt at speaking. “But how else do you want to get John and Dean here so we can get to those bastards? If you can’t go in and smite them, put the fear of God in them and if I can’t go in either, we’re out of options here…”

Castiel looked conflicted, clearly unhappy with the idea but then he nodded.

“But you can’t show up like this…”

Sam watched as the angel looked down on himself, frowning.

“I always thought it was Jimmy who influenced you into the holy tax accountant look but with Jimmy actually already gone, it was you then?”

“This is not proper attire?” Castiel inquired.

“Sure, it is,” Sam reassured him. “If you want to go for the stuffy look but if you want to pass as my friend, you’ll need to tone it down a bit.”

Seconds later they were in a huge store, lights flickering on.

“What do you suggest?”

It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to make a comment about how angels weren’t supposed to be into shop lifting but then he only snorted, deciding not to bother.

“Come with me,” he grabbed Castiel’s hands, leading him towards the jeans.

What seemed like hours later, and lots of ruffled angel feathers, Castiel’s new look was complete: jeans, boots, a few dark shirts and a hoodie.

Sam even had gone so far to ensure his hair was ruffled.

“Better,” he announced. “Now, can you take us back to Bobby’s town and fly one of his cars over too?”

“Why?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ll say, you called me in the middle of the night, freaked out. Then I went out to come and get you…wait…where are we? Close enough to be within driving distance?”

Castiel seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before he nodded. “About two ours driving,” he eventually said.

“Good,” Sam nodded. “This would mean we can make it back to Bobby’s just at about dawn, making this whole thing even more believable.” Then he moved his hand back and forth, giving Castiel the go ahead and for a few seconds, the angel didn’t react, staring at the hand.

“Go…go…” Sam explained and then the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of the town.

A few seconds later, one of Bobby’s cars appeared with Castiel in it in the passenger seat. Sam would’ve loved to take Dean’s car but he knew better. His brother was going to be pissed anyway with Sam sneaking out without telling him and he didn’t need to poke the bear by also having taken his car. Even if it was all a lie.

And no, he didn’t feel bad about lying to his family. Too much practice maybe? But for the first time, the lie he was about to commit to, felt totally right, not an inkling of remorse in sight.

This aught to be a good sign, right?

Though, how Castiel was going to pull off being human, Sam didn’t know. Well, they had a few more hours to kill…time to find out then…

##

“You look,” Sam’s voice stilled. “You look,” he started again, “good.”

Castiel said nothing.

“This is the worst plan in creation,” Castiel eventually observed, calm as a clam and just as uptight.

Sam snorted. “I didn’t hear you come up with anything better.”

The angel’s silence said it all.

“I think, it’s time to go,” Sam stated as the sky was slowly getting lighter. He started up the car, driving quickly towards Bobby’s place.

The lights were on. Sam sighed. “They know,” he said gravely. Castiel gave no outward sigh of tension but maybe Sam had come to know the angel better than he thought, because he could practically see unease radiating off him.

“Let’s go,” he said, getting out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Castiel followed a bit more sedate pace and Sam wondered if it was because he wanted to put Sam in between himself and the others. Then again, an angel wouldn’t be afraid of mere humans, even if one of them was an irate older brother and crazy father, right?

“You’re not worried about meeting them, are you?”

“No.”

“You sure?” Sam inquired. “Because I might have gotten the sort end of the stick here, what with being Lucifer’s vessel and all but Dean’s sort of Michael’s and this might make you…uhm…uncomfortable?”

Castiel stopped. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Em…”

“Lucifer has fallen but he is still an angel and when your bloodline came into existence, he was at my Father’s right hand. You are not responsible for his actions. Your heritage is still something to be proud of.”

Sam gaped. He hadn’t looked at it this way but coming from an angel, maybe he wasn’t as doomed as he had always thought.

“You’re an archangel’s vessel, Sam,” Castiel continued. “This fact alone is something you should be proud of because it is rare and requires an exceptionally strong human.”

“Sam!” Dean burst through the door right while he was spluttering, reeling over what Castiel had just said.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said somewhat lamely.

“Hey Dean?” Dean echoed, breaching the distance, grabbing Sam by the scruff of his neck and practically hauling him into the house.

“Dean!” he protested as he stumbled along.

“What were you thinking, boy?” Bobby greeted him, looking pissed but who looked really dangerous and ready to blow a gasket was John.

Sam gulped. Their relationship had never been a good one. Sure, they both loved each other but it was like he was speaking English and John was speaking Chinese adding not only a language barrier to their problem but also cultural differences. Sam could never live up to what John expected of him, breeding nothing but resentment and he had no clue what his father thought of him apart from obviously having no problems in seeing him dead should the need arise.

Dean could be ruthless too but at least he always tried other ways first.

For a moment, Sam tensed, unsure if Castiel could get passed the wards but when the angel closed the door behind him, shutting out the dawning new day outside, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Who’s this?” John inquired. There was a part of him that hoped his father would do something rash, piss the angel off and get sent to a volcano.

“I got a call,” Sam hastily tried to explain, remembering the lie they had come up with. “He’s overheard something and he wanted to let me know…I went out to get him…” And somewhat desperately he added, “He was in my vision…”

_Darn_ , he thought, _he’d been better a lying_. Not that this was something to be proud off but before travelling back in time, he would’ve been able to pull this off without turning into a stuttering idiot.

“I am Castiel,” Castiel gravely answered, leaving out the _angel of the lord bit_ but Sam could still hear it loud and clear.

“He’s overheard some demons talking in a bar about Azazael. He knows where they will be…” Sam added, slightly desperate.

“And you went out in the middle of the night, without telling anyone, trusting someone you haven’t seen in ages…what if he’s possessed?” John gritted out.

Sam rolled his eyes. Sure, his father had a point but still, couldn’t he focus on the bigger picture here?

“Where’s your car?” Bobby asked.

Sam blinked. Car? Oh…

He glanced at Castiel who looked startled. “I don’t require…”

“He lost it?” Sam tried.

“He lost his car? How did he get here?” Dean finally spoke and Sam wished he had been silent.

Sam sent a pleading look towards the angel. _Do something_ , he mouthed.

“Sam asked me for help and I decided to give it to him,” the angel eventually said.

“Cas!” Sam protested. He wasn’t supposed to deviate from the plan!

“Samuel,” Castiel said gravely, “Lying is a sin.”

“Because you’re all about following orders and toeing the line, right?” Sam shot back, enraged. “Didn’t you binge on an entire liquor store? Deciding free will was a lot more important? Like now?”

“It is still a sin, Sam,” Castiel’s eyes narrowed but Sam observed that he wasn’t necessary refuting what he had said. Score?

The all too familiar clicking of guns being drawn, security disabled had Sam sighing in exasperation.

“If you shoot him, you’ll only piss him off,” Sam said, his back still half way turned to his family.

“The demon named Meg is in a warehouse not too far from here. She is waiting for someone and it is my understanding, she is working for the demon responsible for killing your wife.”

“And for ruining Sam’s life…” Dean pointed out.

“I cannot smite them for you because I don’t want to alert my brothers to what is going on and Sam can’t go in alone. This is why we are here.”

“Wait a minute…” yet another crazy plan rose in Sam’s mind. “What about Gabriel?”

“My brother has not been seen for a very long time…”

“He’s pretending to be a trickster. He doesn’t want Azazael to win either…not once he finds out what the end game is…and what about Balthazar? Isn’t he a friend of yours with an arsenal stashed away? We could use some fire power…”

“Again,” Castiel pointed out. “It would draw attention to us if we were to use these weapons even if my brother would part with them. And Gabriel might decide not to interfere since he was once quite fond of his fallen brother. Besides, he’s been gone for so long, his priorities might’ve changed.”

“He likes this place,” Sam pointed out. “He doesn’t want it to go to hell!”

Castiel actually shrugged.

“What is going on here?” John inquired and when Sam turned around, the gun was pointed at him.

“Just shoot,” Sam challenged, feeling quite tired all of a sudden. “Get it over with. Kill me now and leave me dead and maybe, we won’t end the world. Go on, pull the trigger…”

John’s finger actually twitched and for a moment, Sam thought he would actually do it but then the gun vanished. Actually, all guns vanished.

“There will be no shooting here today,” Castiel decreed. “We have got bigger problems at hand.”

Then, with one flick of his hand, the house was gone and they were back in the alley.

“Uhm…Cas,” Sam whined.

Dean was suddenly right there, in Sam’s space, putting his body in between him and the angel.

Bobby’s eyes were wide and John looked homicidal.

“I am an angel of the lord,” Castiel finally said. “And I am tired of your bickering. It is time to pick a side and make a stand.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to alert…” Sam tried to point out because hadn’t their plan been all about avoiding detection and not drawing attention to themselves?

“Yes, that was before you started zig zagging all over the place, leaving a trail…” a deep voice came from behind them and everyone hurled around.

“Gabriel?” Sam’s mouth hung open.

“Is it good to see you, little brother,” The archangel ignored him, eyes trained on Castiel. “It warms my heart to know not all of my brothers are mindless drones.” He gave a wink.

“You are aware, Sam,” Gabriel was eyeing him now, slightly wary which made Sam unease. Why would an archangel look at him like that? “That you picked up hellfire while you were in the cage?”

“Em…”

“It is impressive how you managed to get here. Maybe dumb luck would be a more apt description but hey, I’m always one who applauds human ingenuity.”

Now the angel was beaming at him which was just downright frightening.

“The visions?” Sam asked.

“You’re link to Lucifer,” Gabriel explained. “It’s always been there. You two are connected, it is in your blood.”

“Azazel…” John mumbled.

“No,” Gabriel corrected. “Your bloodline is old, the demon might’ve spiced things up but Sam’s connected anyway. Just like Dean here is connected to Michael.”

“What?”

“We can have a story time later on,” Gabriel declared. “Right now, we need to move. The demon Meg has been waiting for is actually Azazael, so let’s finish it tonight before the world spirals out of control.”

“What?” John shouted. “Who the hell are you people and what’s going on here?”

Sam ignored him, feeling the air crackling quietly around him. Hellfire. It sounded ominous but maybe, it wasn’t all bad.

“I’m going in,” Sam declared. “I’ll distract them. Do they have any sigils up?”

“No,” Castiel answered. “They are not expecting our involvement. They are not prepared.”

“Give them back their guns…”

“It won’t make a difference…”

“It will slow them down…” Sam pointed out and seconds later, the guns were back.

“Sam…” Dean protested.

Sam looked at his brother. “You with me in this? Do you have my back?”

Dean looked confused, a look which was actually quite endearing and before Sam could figure out what this meant, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Love is never wrong,” Gabriel declared, leaving Sam even more confused than before.

“Follow my lead, boys,” the archangel continued to say with too much glee in his voice to be of any comfort.

Shouts of protests broke out, everyone spoke at the same time but they didn’t have the time to answer the questions. Sam had no doubt that once the shit hit the fan, his family would fall in line, leaving the questions behind for later. But then, Sam knew, he was going to end up in the hot seat. How was he going to explain angels, Lucifer and Michael, the end of the world and him travelling somehow back in time for a second chance?

His family had a high tolerance for the insane, it sort of came with the territory but this? Even a hunter who had seen lots of crazy shit would assume he’d gone off the deep end and honestly, Sam couldn’t blame them.

Then the world fell away as Castiel sent him into the warehouse.

Showtime.

“Hi!” Sam shouted at the top of his lungs. “How you’re doing?”

Every demon swirled around, staring at him.

Sam straightened up, hands at his side and the air started crackling again, slowly heating up. He didn’t need to look down to know hellfire was pooling at his finger tips, his very own pipeline into the pit.

Anger swirled inside him, like a small spiral slowly gaining momentum, sucking any positive emotion right out of him.

Hell was all about anger and pain so it stood to reason that any power linked to the horrid place, would require him to draw on his dark side.

Thankfully, Sam had ample experience with _dark_ and right now, he’d taken on Lucifer himself if it meant ensuring he never got free.

“Surprise!” he shouted, smiling at Meg and at Azazael who had started everything so many years ago.

Then, almost quite literally, all hell broke loose.

##

A shot rang out and out of the corner of his eyes, Sam saw Azazael go down, demon and human dying almost instantly.

There was a high pitched scream, sounding like a woman on a rampage and before he could react, a body hurled into him. He lost control of the flames licking at his finger tips, falling sideways, landing in a heap on the floor.

All oxygen left his lungs and he was left gasping for a few seconds. Smoke and other putrid smells assaulted his nostrils and for a moment he wondered, why he hadn’t noticed the horrid smells before.

Something glimmered before his eyes and his momentary paralysis vanished in a heart beat. His hands rose up, grabbing Meg’s hand in a vicious grip but the demon was strong, much stronger than a human and the knife continuously crept forward.

He struggled, body twisting, trying to dislodge her or at least getting her to falter for a moment but she was apparently fuelled by righteous anger, as far as it applied to demons anyway, and she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

Fighting was all around him, the sounds of guns going off, of screams and hurled courses darkened the air and considering how thick the smoke was, he doubted anyone would be alerted to his plight until it was too late.

The blade crept closer and closer to his throat, nicking his skin, drawing blood. Victory danced in the demon’s eyes but out of nowhere, Sam’s fire sprung back to life, vivid red flames flickering of his finger tips, singing the demon’s hand and while they were normally more or less immune to pain inflicted to their host, it still startled Meg long enough to momentarily loose her grip.

And a second was all he needed. He knew, he couldn’t throw her off completely. He was wipe, the fire having taking out much more energy than he would’ve thought but he could at least direct the knife somewhere less fatal.

Still, if it didn’t work, he was prepared to die. He was on borrowed time anyway and if his death meant all plans to open Lucifer’s cage were derailed for good and if his bloody family would be smart enough for once to actually let him stay dead, then he would go out with a song in his heart.

Still, just because he didn’t mind taking his final journey, didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fight to his last breath. There was a difference between embracing the darkness and actively seeking it out and contrary to what some might think, he wasn’t and had never been, suicidal.

Ice spread through his vanes, as the tip of the blade sunk into his flesh, tearing into his shoulders. Pain wasn’t instantaneous. It wasn’t as if it spread out from the entry like sonic waves…for a few precious seconds, there was only the cold feeling of the blade sinking into his skin, parting flesh and burying itself in his body.

Meg snarled, not happy with the turn of events and this moment, this tiny moment of anger, was enough for Sam. His anger gave him the strength to rear up from the ground, his head connecting with hers, causing her to rear backwards.

She lost her grip on the blade, fingers slipping and with one swift move, he shoved her sideways and off him.

Everything happened so quickly, almost too fast for the human eye to comprehend but despite the sudden almost mind numbing pain radiating from his shoulder, he still managed to yank the knife free, ignoring his free flowing blood.

With as scream which would’ve made any banshee proud, she hurled herself back at him but Sam was ready. He knew better than to try and stand up, his legs to wobbly, adrenalin not enough to keep him going but he could held out the knife, tip ready.

She tried to abort, to move sideways but Sam managed to grab her, pulling her closer, burying the knife in the pit of her stomach. Now, normally such a knife wound would only kill the human host, sending the demon flying but apparently this was one of those special knives because the moment Sam shoved it into Meg’s body, everything started glistering around her, snarling and then the demon, and the human, died, slumping forward.

Sam managed to toss her away from him, crawling towards the wall, putting a safe distance between him and her.

The fighting was dying down all around him and for a moment, his eyes fluttered close. It was done; quicker than anticipated but who cared?

There might be more evil schemes underfoot, the demons might try again to free Lucifer, hell, the angels might come up with a plot or two too but for now? His family was save and on a bigger scale, so was earth.

Looking down, he saw tiny tendrils of red flames licking at his skin. _Hellfire_. His connection to the pit, carried over from a future which no longer existed.

His stomach turned and there was bile in his throat. His family might be safe but he was still tainted. No only did he carry demon blood, which was bad enough on its own, he also carried the stink of hell around with him.

Somehow, activating the old device and getting a second chance and purged his mind of Lucifer but his connection was still there.

The fire coursed through his vanes, and even as the flames extinguished, vanishing as if they had never been there before, he could still feel them dancing on his insides.

He was a danger to everyone he loved.

Slowly he got back onto his feet, his shoulder no longer hurting, going numb which was never a good sign. He swayed, almost dizzy from the blood loss but he had a new goal in mind.

His eyes roamed through the smoke filled hall, locating his brother and his father, save and still fighting, cleaning up Sam’s mess.

He would do everyone a favour if he disappeared, never to be seen again. They could go on with their lives…Dean might even get out of hunting but then again, this had always been Sam’s dream and if Dean was happy staying in the family business, then who was Sam to argue with him?

He couldn’t see Bobby or the two angels but Sam didn’t care. He slowly crawled towards the exit. Turning his back hurt, not so much on a physical level as in his heart and he had just about managed to exit when he heard someone shouting his name.

He couldn’t let Dean catch up with him. His brother was too perceptive; given time, he would figure out what was wrong with him and if he could do anything, then at least he could ensure he would keep Dean away from the stink that was Sam’s darkened soul.

He crashed into a few trash bins, nearly falling flat onto his face but he was fuelled by love for his family, by necessity, so he found the strength to keep on going.

His hands were pressed to his still bleeding wound and he was just about to pass out when he got to a traffic light. It was still the middle of the night which explained why he had gotten this far without being spotted or stopped by someone.

A truck stopped, the driver momentarily leaning sideways, digging for something on the passenger seat and without thinking twice about it, Sam crawled onto the back of the truck, lifting the drapes and hiding underneath it. The heavy fabric settled on top of him and then he made his nest among tools and bags of what could possibly be some sort of fertilizer.

The car’s engine rumbled back and when the truck jolted into motion, Sam passed out, secure in the knowledge that his family was safe. Safe from a future of nothing but pain and safe from him.

He couldn’t ask for more, right?

##

How Sam had gotten into the abandoned house was nothing but a blur. At some stage, at yet another halt, he’d fallen off the truck, stumbled along a dirt road and more or less crashed through the first house he’d come across.

He blinked, the faint sunlight stroking his face, teasing him with fake warmth and a welcome home feeling. Groaning, he twitched, testing if there was anything broken in his body.

All limbs seemed to be working which he guessed, was good news. He hurt all over, bruises probably forming everywhere but at least, he’d managed not to break any bones.

His shirt was stuck to his shoulder, the blood crusting, causing his skin to itch. When he heaved himself into a sitting position, he shivered. He raised a hand, brushing over his sweaty brow.

Fever…he was running a fever. He needed to get the wound cleaned. Hell, he needed a shower all over but before he could form any coherent thought, there was a flutter of wings and then a hand came out of nowhere, connecting with his jaw.

He fall backwards, head connecting with the floor.

“You’re lucky,” Dean snarled, “that you’re hurt. Otherwise, you’d be getting the beating of a life time!”

Well, Sam was too tried, too achy all over to defend himself so when gentle hands pulled him close and when there was yet another flutter of wings, he didn’t object or fight.

##

“He’s in bad shape.”

Dean’s concerned voice managed to get through to him through the pounding of the ocean inside his head.

“I can heal him,” Castiel said gravely and moments later, there was a hand on Sam’s forehead.

Then, white hot pain flared through his body. His back arched off the bed and he screamed his lungs out as he could practically feel the fever being drained out of his body. His flesh knitted itself together and when it was done, he flopped back down onto the bed like a rag doll.

“You should’ve known better,” Castiel chastised.

“Hm…” Sam hummed.

“Thank you,” Dean said, close by. Then the bed dipped and a warm presence sat down next to him. “Can you tell Dad, Sam’s fine and I’ll be looking after him?”

“You don’t want me to bring your family here?”

“No,” Dean slowly said and Sam could practically see him frowning. “Sam and Dad are always at each other’s throats and I figured, at least in his screwed up brain, he had a good reason for running away. I’d rather talk to him first before Dad makes it worse…”

“I see,” Castiel commented but even with closed eyes, Sam got the impression the angel didn’t _see_ a thing.

“Call for me when you are ready to go back.”

“Thank you!”

And with Dean’s soothing presence next to him, Sam drifted off to sleep again. This time not because his body was wrecked with fever or because he was blacking out thanks to the knife wound in his shoulder. This time, he feel asleep because the healing had taken a lot out of him and for the first time in a very long time, he actually felt safe to let go completely.

##

“I had an interesting conversation with your angel,” Dean said when Sam’s eyes fluttered open.

He nearly laughed because if Castiel had ever belonged to someone, it had been Dean.

“And maybe in a while, you’ll tell me everything you’ve been through but for now, I know everything I need to know.”

Sam smacked his lips. “And what’s that?” he asked, voice hoarse, emotions swirling around inside him.

“That you’ve been through something horrific and came out on top. The demon’s dead and whatever plan he’d set in motion, died with him. Dad’s off on a binge somewhere, celebrating and Bobby is busy talking to Castiel. I think the angel should be renamed angel of patience because with all the questions Bobby’s come up with, I am sure the guy’s ears must be ringing by now.”

“I thought, he would have headed back to heaven…” Sam mumbled.

Dean shrugged. “Gabriel’s vanished but the guy was giving me the creeps anyway. Castiel thought seems to be alright…if he wants to hang around, I don’t mind. Kind of handy to have an angel around. Without him, you might be in really bad shape.

“Yes,” Sam mumbled, still quite tired but more of the lethargic kind. The kind where you could be in bed all day, hugging the pillow…the good kind…

Dean’s hand came to heavily rest on Sam’s hand. Sam stared at Dean’s rather pale fingers intermixing with his slightly darker skin.

“Castiel also said something rather interesting…”

“Huh?”

“Love comes in all shapes and sizes and a feeling running this deep, can’t be wrong.”

“Huh?” Sam’s heart fluttered as he stared at his brother. “Have you gotten dropped on your head?” he asked. “Since when do you talk about your feelings without being threatened with bodily harm?”

This got Dean to snort, a sheepish smile on his face. “I’m taking a leap of faith here…so bear with me.”

Sam stayed quiet, his eyes searching Dean’s.

“I’ve done some research…” Dean continued and Sam couldn’t quite help it, a snort escaped his lips because _Dean and research_? Now he knew, the end might’ve arrived after all.

“Don’t be that way,” Dean complained. “I know how to type in key words on the web and hit enter…and I can read.”

Sam stayed silent.

“There’s tons of info out there about being raised under war like circumstances…how it forms a bond deeper than normal, how it can stop you from forming any attachments with people outside your tiny circle because those people, aren’t your brothers…”

“Em…”

“We were raised so far outside normal, that I don’t think I would know what do with myself if I was suddenly forced to work 9 to 5. Dad loves us, I know this but you’re the most important person in my life. Have been since he practically threw you into my arms, telling me to get you out of the house…”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re it for me, Sam,” Dean said, voice breaking up. “I tried to fight it. You’re my brother. I shouldn’t feel this way. It isn’t natural but then again, nothing about your lives is _natural_. And what’s the harm? It isn’t as if you could get pregnant…”

“Huh?” Sam felt as if he had missed an important part of the conversation because not only was Dean sharing and caring, he was also taking gibberish.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since I caught you making out with that blond girl when you were fifteen…”

“Thinking about me how?”

Dean gave him a heavy look and the shoe finally dropped.

“Dean!” Sam squeaked, he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t care if you feel the same way,” Dean hurriedly said. “I’ll always be there for you but with what happened recently and how close I’ve come to loosing you, well, I didn’t want to spend a single moment going on without telling you how I feel.”

Sam gaped. This couldn’t be right. Dean couldn’t possible be sitting at his bed side, confessing feelings of a less than brotherly nature to him. The whole thing was so surreal, Sam felt the urge to bang his head against the wall just to see if it would turn into a gigantic candy stick and the whole dream would go puff.

“I…” Sam stuttered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dean interrupted. “Dad would probably have kittens if he ever found out but I can’t lie to you. I get the feeling, we’ve been lying to each other far too often in the future you’ve come from so I want to turn over a new leaf. Start afresh and all that crap.”

Sam’s mouth hung open. Dean? He couldn’t deny his brother had always claimed a huge part of his heart. In many ways, he’d been the most important person in his life and even his love for Jess couldn’t possibly come close. He’d have done anything to safe her but if she had been alive and Dean would’ve come in, he would’ve yelled at him but he would still have gone with him.

Hell, hadn’t he done just that? Dean might’ve dragged him kicking and screaming on the ill fated trip to find their father which had ended with his apartment going up in flames but he’d still come. He could’ve still said no.

And he hadn’t.

But this? He loved his brother. And he was right; their bond wasn’t normal. They’d sacrificed too much for each other, more than any rational person would and they had left normal behind a long time ago. But this?

Dean was looking at him, expecting him to say something and from the tense look on his face, he was probably expecting Sam to slug him.

“I guess, you could kiss me?” Sam offered, somewhat weakly.

“What?” Dean’s eyes had turned wide.

“It’s not as if you are alone in this,” Sam hastily said. “I might not have jerked off thinking about you but you are the most important person in my life. I went out of my mind when I thought you were gone for good and I’d do anything to not have that happen again.”

“I don’t want you to do anything unless you want to…”

“I know,” Sam reassured. “And honestly? I don’t know how I feel. But I wouldn’t mind trying…”

And this was the truth. Sam might not have lain awake at night, thinking about his brother but there had been more than one time when he’d walked in on Dean in the throws of passion with a waitress or someone else he’d picked up and he couldn’t deny having jerked off after wards, his hand rough on his dick.

“I can’t make any promises and if that isn’t good enough, then we can just pretend the whole thing never happened but I wouldn’t mind trying…” Sam stuttered.

Dean still eyed him as if he had sprouted wings.

Shyness wasn’t really one of Sam’s traits but he couldn’t help but eye Dean somewhat warily when he moved closer until his face hovered only inches above his own.

“You sure about this?”

Sam rolled his eyes, licking his lips and he smiled when Dean’s gaze narrowed in on the movement.

“Yes…” he’d barely spoken when Dean’s lips were on his. Now, there was no angel choir, no exploding volcanoes or dancing stars before his vision but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant…

He shuffled, arms coming out to grab Dean by his hands, pulling him down with him. Wasn’t it good he was already on a bed?

It might be proof of how far gone he already was because the fleeting thought of how they shouldn’t be doing this, how brothers weren’t supposed to be touching each other in such an intimate manner, was nothing but a tear drop on a hot stone. The thought came and evaporated almost instantly because Dean was right. Their lives have been screwed up from the beginning and while their affection for each other might not correspond to the norm, they also weren’t harming anyone.

Still, staying clear of Dad with the new revelation was probably a good idea.

The kiss deepened and all thoughts flew out the window. They moved, the sheets and clothing vanished as if it had been blinked away, fabric ripped, elbows and knees were jabbed into places where they shouldn’t go but in the end, their bodies were perfectly aligned.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut as his hips moves, rubbing his straining erection against Dean’s, marvelling at how good this felt.

“All the way, Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath ghosting over Sam’s earlobe as he spoke softly.

Nodding, Sam shifted, turning so he was on his back and Dean moved with him. Just like expected, Dean was always prepared because apart from the hunt, having sex as often as possible was clearly the only other thing on his brother’s mind. Not that Sam was about to complain because it meant they had lube and condoms…

It had been a while since he’d been with a man so the stretching was uncomfortable and tense, his body clenching around the introducing fingers. Dean was gentle, patient and oh so careful so eventually, Sam’s body yielded and it was him getting impatient, fucking himself on Dean’s fingers, keening sounds falling from his lips.

Dean obliged when he thought Sam was ready, he moved in behind him, pressing his body close. For a few moments he stayed that way until he started to slow move, his dick moving in between Sam’s ass cheeks, teasing him of what was to come.

Sam growled, Dean chuckled and then, only then, his cheeks were parted and Dean’s huge head nudged at his entrance. Sam took a deep breath, letting it only go once Dean pushed in and maybe it had been too early to proclaim there weren’t going to be any fireworks because right now, Sam surely saw stars.

What happened next was age old and nothing new. Their bodies moved in unison, driving them higher and higher until they soared over the clouds, glimpsing heaving not too far away.

Sam screamed, body shuddering when his released hit him, slumping onto the soft cushions when he was done. He probably should be mortified at having his ass still high up in the air, with Dean pounding away but he found, he didn’t have the energy for it.

Dean’s body shuddered and then his brother screamed too, coming right behind him.

When he was done, Sam winced as the cock left his body. He rolled sideways, watching Dean through heavy lidded eyes.

Dean tied off the condom, discharging it without a second care before settling in right next to Sam, pulling him close. 

Sam rested his head on Dean’s chest, loving the feel of skin underneath his finger tips as they roamed over Dean’s flat stomach. His heart practically lulled him to sleep.

But there was one more thing he needed to address before he could give in.

“I’ve got a direct pipeline to hell,” Sam announced.

Of all the behaviours Sam had expected when announcing he had access to hellfire, Dean chuckling hadn’t been among them.

“I could tell. The sulphur alone had everyone nearly vomiting and I think some of the demons in the warehouse actually were in awe…”

“You don’t care?”

“Why should I?” Sam could feel Dean shrugging. “It might come in handy…”

Sam wasn’t so sure he shared Dean’s blasé attitude about hellfire but hey, who was he to argue with his brother?

They deserved happiness, some peace of mind and right now, the future was an open road, awaiting discovery.

He’d settled for that and it wasn’t as if he could give the gift back. He was stuck with it so he might just as well make the best out of it. He tried not to think too had on the fact that when he’d gotten himself addicted to demon blood, his reasoning had been kind of similar but these two things weren’t quite the same.

Drinking demon blood had been his choice. Having hellfire coursing through his vanes…? This wasn’t his choice but how he would use it? This was his choice to make and he vowed to never call it forth unless there was really no other choice.

Maybe it would be enough, maybe it wouldn’t be but for now, he settled for allowing himself to feel happy and sated. The future was looking up and if anything dared to come in between him and his newfound happiness, well, they would be surprised!

He fell asleep with a somewhat evil grin on his face and it was a good thing that Dean’s head was turned away, unable to see his little brother’s expression.

If he’d seen it, he might’ve thought twice about being so nonchalant about a direct connection to hell…

But for now, the brothers were happy…and wasn’t this all that mattered?

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far. I hope you have enjoyed it!


End file.
